nose. She had a feeling she’d much rather hear that story than the one he seemed intent on telling. It made her tense.
“Anyway,” he continued. “What happened next with Joe and Ashleigh…”
Why was he telling her all of this? Was he about to share something about a crime against a child? If so, she might have to jump into the lake and attempt to drown herself after all. Or at least push him in.
Having reeled in his line without a strike, Boone threw another cast. He reeled and pitched twice more before continuing, “It’s a long story worthy of an afternoon soap opera.” He frowned and cut Hannah a glance. “Are afternoon soap operas still on the air?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
He shrugged, then continued. “Without sharing the ugly details, I’ll say that one lesson I learned during this ordeal was that from the outside looking in, you can’t understand another couple’s marriage. You shouldn’t try. Joe did have a good heart, however, and in the middle of his personal crisis, he came to us with a private adoption opportunity. The teenage daughter of someone who worked for his parents was pregnant and looking for parents for her child. I knew it was risky, but Mary…” He shrugged. “We decided to try one more time and went all in. We met the mother. She liked us. She picked us. Mary decorated another nursery. Two weeks before the baby was due, the mother changed her mind.”
“Oh, Boone.”
“Yeah.” He reeled in his line, then made another cast. “I threw myself into another case, and I just didn’t see what was happening at home. Mary stalked the girl. The day the baby was born, my wife came home, sat down in the rocking chair in the nursery that I hadn’t made time to disassemble, and took a whole bottle of sleeping pills. I worked late, and she was gone by the time I came home.”
Hannah gave in to the desire to touch him. She placed her hand atop his and gave it a quick, comforting squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. Me too.” Boone continued to reel in the line. He filled his cheeks with air, then blew out a heavy breath. “There’s more to the story, but I’ve done all the bleeding I care to right now. The point I wanted to make is this: I understand, Hannah. I know what it’s like to lose someone. I know what a bitch anniversaries can be. March twenty-first will be seven years since Mary died. What year is today for you?”
Hannah hesitated. On the heels of his intimate confession, how could she keep quiet? “Three. This is the third anniversary.”
Boone nodded. “Three was a tough one. One and two, you know you’re going to be a basket case. Just when you think you’re progressing okay on the road toward recovery, boom, the third anniversary rolls around. The pain is fresh and new again.”
Now she looked at him appraisingly. “You have a point.”
“I know. That’s what I want you to know. Every anniversary is hard, but from my experience, four truly is a little easier than three.”
“Thank you. You are a nice guy, Boone McBride.”
“Not much of a fisherman, though,” he grumbled when his cast failed to attract a nibble once again. He secured the hook through the eye on his pole, set it aside, and rose. “I don’t know about you, but I’m so hungry that my navel is rubbing against my spine. I picked up a charcuterie board in town, and it’s on my kitchen table, calling to me. Do you need a little more solo time, or would you like to join me?”
Hannah smiled up at him. “I never turn down cheese.”
He grinned back at her and stretched out his hand to help her up.
Just like he’d been doing all day.
Chapter Five
As Boone flipped the steaks on the grill, curiosity was about to kill him. He wanted to know about the tragedy that she marked with such sorrow today. He needed to know just whom she mourned. Exactly why he wanted answers so bad, he couldn’t say. Ordinarily, he didn’t stick his nose in other people’s business.
Well, unless they were family. Family was fair game. That’s just the way the McBrides rolled. And maybe he’d been known to get nosy with good friends upon occasion.
Maybe he did lead with his nose reasonably often.
Of course, he’d learned at the feet of a queen. He loved his mother more than any woman on earth, but Marquetta